


In the pines

by Szpurka



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: #merlinmemorymonth, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Some Dark Humour, idk how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 01:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18681091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szpurka/pseuds/Szpurka
Summary: Prince Arthur gets to spend one night in the dungeons as a lesson in humility, which coincidentally puts him in a cell next to a young sorcerer who’s to be executed in the morning.





	In the pines

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to take part in this celebration that is MerlinMemoryMonth in 2019. I relatively new to the fandom, so I haven't had the chance to participate in those kind of events, but I already have so much love for Merlin and I wanted to share it in some way
> 
> It's a first date, May 2 and I chose Path 3 - A heart opened / A heart broken
> 
> Seeing as a I don't have much time now (exams, ugh), I'll focus more on this event for now, though I will skip the second date, bc I just didn't have any idea what to write and I just don't have enough time now. Though I'll try to check more or less all the dates, bc the prompts are all lovely and I have so many ideas *_*
> 
> Oh, and the next chapter of Just One Yesterday will prolly be in June, maybe at the end of May, then I'll have more free time to write and post consistently. Sorry for keeping you wait so long
> 
> The title came to me in a dream and I thought the song kinda fit the story Idk. It's called "In the pines" and it from American Gods soundtrack (it's the cover, original song is called "Where did you sleep last night" by Nirvana)  
> [Listen to me!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SgPB5fvMR_E)  
> 

“Let go of me already. I’m not a cripple, I can walk by myself!”

Two guards who were holding him exchanged meaningful looks, but released him without further threats. As much as it was admirable they were loyal to the king, Arthur was his father’s son and he could make their lives a living hell as soon as he was released from this wretched place.

He could make a run for it, if he chose to and he would five minutes ago, but now the fight left him. What good would it bring? Only his father becoming even more angry and putting him in a cell for a week. Even if one night seemed as an eternity after some thought Arthur decided he could survive this one night, if it meant he wouldn’t rot in the dungeons for even an hour longer than until dawn.

Another two men guarding the cells scrambled up and lowered their heads in respect upon seeing him. He could see some cups and dices on the table between them and that’s probably what occupied their long hours of sitting on their arses and doing nothing but making sure the prisoners wouldn’t escape - which never happened in Camelot.

“By the orders of the king prince Arthur is to stay in a cell for the night and you’re not supposed to release him no matter what he says.”

The guards nodded, looking at him and frowning. Arthur lifted his chin and gritted his teeth, daring them to comment upon it. They didn’t and one of them, the taller one, took the keys by his belt and opened a cell - which was bigger than the one next to it and granted - had a stack of hay, which could work as a bed.

It smelled disgusting. The whole place, not only the cell. The air was stale and moist and the guards in the dungeons weren’t known to wash regularly. Arthur couldn’t believe his, as the Prince of Camelot would have to lower--to-- _to_ _humiliate_ himself like this and sleep in a hay like some lower class servant.

The chains in the cell next to him rattled loudly and Arthur startled, his muscles tensing and his body ready to fight. Instead of some ugly unwashed man from the other side of the bars a pale face appeared with startling blue eyes that pierced through the darkness of the cell.

Before Arthur could ask who is that, the guard holding the keys laughed.

“I guess you will be entertained tonight, my lord. Meet the most powerful man to walk this earth.”

Arthur frowned at the mocking tone, but he didn’t turn to look. His eyes held the prisoner’s gaze. He remained impassive, like he was used to it.

“It’s your only chance, sorcerer. Beg your prince for forgiveness and maybe the execution will be delayed.”

“His execution is tomorrow? Wait, is that Emrys?” 

Arthur couldn’t believe his eyes. In front of him kneeled a mere boy, not even a fully grown man. He couldn’t be Emrys - the sorcerer from the legends, who conquered lands and enslaved dragons… who Uther bragged about capturing for days on end and made preparations to make his execution a huge event that would end in a feast.

“No matter. Please, my prince, step inside the cell.” The tall guard said and Arthur, too stunned to argue, did as he was told.

Those blue eyes followed him and the man walked on his knees and sat on the other side of the bars dividing their cells. He didn’t stop staring.

Arthur barely heard all the guards talking and saying something about brining a supper. He couldn’t stop staring at those eyes - they unnerved him like nothing before. And the prisoner - did he have something wrong with his head? Too much time in solitude? He was unwashed, raven hair sticking in every direction, his eyes were wild and angry.

“Stop staring at me,” Arthur commanded, wondering if Emrys even had anything of a man left in him and if he could understand human speech. 

Arthur didn’t know anything about sorcerers, he knew only stories of the druids who lived in the woods like some sort of savages. They chose to remain primitive rather than abandon their magical practises and live under the reign of Camelot, who could’ve helped them anyway.

Arthur turned around and put his hands on his hips, regarding his cell, feeling the stare on the back of his neck, but ignoring it. This boy couldn’t do anything to him, not when he had those shackles on his wrists. They were some sort of anti-magic bracelets gifted to Uther many years ago by the Witch Hunter.

Arthur saw a bucket in the corner - for taking piss, he guessed, though his lip curled with disgust all the same. He sighed and sat on the the pile of hay covered with a few rough blankets. He leaned back against the cold wall, crossed his arms and tried to will himself to sleep. Even if he wasn’t tired at all and he still could feel the man stare on him the entire time.

Arthur frowned with eyes closed at just as he was about to open his mouth to politely ask Emrys to stop with the staring, he heard a voice.

“What if I am?” It was harsh, cracked with disuse. Emrys cleared his throat, but it didn’t help much. Arthur wondered briefly when was the last time he got a drink.

“What if you are what?” Arthur asked, annoyed. He shifted a bit, trying to make himself comfortable but failed, which put him in sore mood, which he already was to begin with. Then he looked at Emrys and thought maybe a conversation would be better than staring.

“What if I am Emrys? What’s it to you?” He asked. His voice was surprisingly low for such a young man.

“Glad to know you can speak.” Arthur snorted, mostly at this prisoner's rudeness. He knew who he was speaking to, and yet he chose to cut Arthur with the only weapon he had left - his words. “But forgive me I find it hard to believe  _ you  _ could be a sorcerer so powerful. You’re practically a child!”

Emrys made a offended noise, surprising Arthur by gripping the bars. “I’m older than you! I’m eighteen!”

_ Still not old enough to lose your life like this _ , Arthur thought. And where did  _ that  _ thought came from? He was evil, because all magic was evil. No matter if an older person or a child possessed it.

“So you are the powerful Emrys, huh? And yet here you are, imprisoned and sentenced for death.” Arthur didn’t know where that cruel tone came from. 

Emrys’ shackles and bars rattled, where he was gripping them and shaking, shouting, “Fuck you!  _ Fuck you _ , Arthur Pendragon! Fuck your king! Fuck everything you stand for...”

“Sire, what’s going on?” The guard stepped closer, anger and hatred evident on his face when he was looking at Merlin.

Arthur waved him back. “Nothing. Let him finish.”

“Fuck your entitlement! Fuck your bloody crown!” He yanked the bars with both hands, but he was too skinny, to weak to do much without his magic. “Fuck you for taking innocent lives and hunting us like bloody animals!”

“What else are you?” Arthur was getting angry too, though he didn’t want to let it consume him. This savage didn’t know anything about him, his father and how Camelot worked. He didn’t know how many people they saved killing sorcerers and fighting magic and all its evils.

The guard reluctantly left them to themselves again. Merlin’s mouth curled in an ugly snarl and Arthur smirked at the reaction. “Are you not animals? Possessed by demons? Planting evil seeds in every heart you come across, manipulating, killing, taking innocent lives? And you claim to be  _ innocent _ . Tell me how much blood did you spill to make yourself stronger?”

Merlin grew quiet and his shoulder hunched with every word. Arthur felt victorious. But not for long. There were tears in those blue eyes. If Arthur didn’t know better, he might’ve had some sympathy for the young man.

“Is this what you think of us?” Emrys exhaled shakily, wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and straightened his back, not letting his voice crack. This time it was quiet, but confident, “Is that what you’ve been told, Arthur Pendragon? By your father, who lived in peace with my kind for half of his life?”

“And then he finally saw your true nature.”

Emrys shook his head. “We are people, too, Arthur Pendragon. Is that so hard to believe? Do you look at me and see an animal, as your father does? To be wounded, and starved, and humiliated and then killed for the entertainment of people he corrupted? Everything that I am has been taken from me - my magic, my pride, but my humanity, as you see, has not been lost for I am speaking to you in anger but without hatred in my heart. Because I know you’re not responsible for your father’s sins.”

Arthur clenched his fists at his sides and moved to his feet. “You are corrupted! By magic. You study it to be able to corrupt and kill others!”

Emrys sat there cross-legged, hands in his lap, looking up at him, following his pacing with those watchful eyes.

“Are the men in your court corrupted by knowledge? Is Gaius, your Court Physician, corrupted, because he learns new ways to heal every day? Some of my people learned magic for various reasons. Some of them are bad men or become bad and they wield their magic as a weapon. Just as a knight wields his sword. He could kill with it, but chooses not to. We choose not to. Though some do. Tell me, Arthur, are you afraid to give swords to your knights because one in a twenty of them can attack you with it some day? Or you trust them not to?”

Arthur gritted his teeth. “Swords aren’t as dangerous as magic is!”

“Magic is as powerful as a man who wields it. I think you find this is also the case with swords. But sometimes, and I give you that, there are people born with magic. They didn’t choose to learn it and they can be dangerous, because of their inexperience. My people and I try to teach anyone we can, so it doesn’t happen. But it doesn’t mean we were corrupted since birth or possessed by evil spirits. Just as those who are born into royal families or born with a silver tongue aren’t corrupted. They didn’t chose to be what they are.”

“And which one are you?”

Arthur looked into those blue eyes, they calmed down and seemed stronger somehow, more confident than those wild ones from before Arthur had seen, when he came there. He didn’t look like a caged animal, but like a man who knew what he was talking about.

He may have been spinning tales for Arthur to free him, but if so - his effort was futile, Arthur didn’t even consider it. And without the help of magic Emrys really couldn’t manipulate him, couldn’t plant a seed of the devil into his mind. He had only words. And Arthur had to admit he was a bit curious what he had to say to defend himself.

Seeing Arthur was listening, Emrys’ face relaxed a bit and he looked startlingly young, boyish even.

“I always had magic. I was born with it,” he said, and he sounded proud, which Arthur found difficult to comprehend. Instead of looking for excuses he incriminated himself further. What was the purpose of this? “I would never abandon it, because it is who I am. It defines me, just as the word ‘prideful’ defines you.”

Arthur made an offended sound and Merlin chuckled. Honest to gods, chuckled. It shut Arthur up instantly.

He made himself sit closer to the bars - just out of Emrys’ reach, but still close, so Arthur could look at his face for any sign of a lie.

“You must’ve done something wrong, if my father searched for you for so long.”

“Arthur. How long ago did you first heard of me? When was the first time your father started to hunt me down?”

Their voices became hushed. Partly because they didn’t want the guards playing games a few feet away hear them. Partly because they were sitting so close and the atmosphere changed between them. It wasn’t exactly positive, but it wasn’t full of anger either.

“Five years ago. Some witch shouted something about a prophecy of the great Emrys, who…”

“Who will unite Albion and bring magic to the land, yes. That’s what they told me, too, not so long ago. But when I first heard of Emrys being searched, hunted I was so scared that I may suffer the same fate one day. That I will be hunted down and killed.”

“But  _ you  _ are Emrys.”

“That’s not my real name. It wasn’t the first time I heard the prophecy when I was thirteen years old, five years ago. It was later, when I was seventeen and had to leave my mother, because I put ther in so much danger just by existing as I was. I couldn’t let your father’s knights kill her and my whole village if they had found out about me.”

“We aren’t that merciless!”

“Then you don’t know the Witch Hunting Squad. I grew up with stories about them and I had many nightmares after just thinking about them catching me and discovering that my mother let me be for so long, keeping me safe.”

“Why--why are you telling me all this? I could tell my father about your mother and he would…” Arthur realised. Uther wouldn’t even blink before making the order to--to… “Your mother, is she… I mean is she also…?”

“Magic? No, no, I suppose she was quite surprised when one year old Merlin levitated his blanket to his crib because he was cold.”

“Merlin?”

Emrys looked down, embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck, and bit his lip. “Umm, yes, that’s… that’s my real name. The one my mother gave me.”

“And Emrys?”

“It’s a title, I suppose. Like you’re the Prince of Camelot I am Emrys. That’s how most people call me anyway.”

“Merlin…” Arthur tasted the word in his mouth. It was surprisingly… dull. Normal. Arthur didn’t know what it meant, but it was nothing regal like Emrys or his own name. Although it was more fitting to the young man in front of him than Emrys. Emrys was a legend. And there in a cell on the other side of the bars sat Merlin. Just Merlin.

“Tell me, Merlin. How have you gotten captured by the Witch Hunting Squad?”

“You think I just could’ve used my magic to get out, right? But we were caught unaware and some of my friends got captured first. I made a bargain. My freedom for their lives.”

Arthur had a sudden sense of doubt. His father wouldn’t let sorcerers go, even with that kind of bargain. He knew it was wrong to think that. But it was the truth. When it came to magic Uther was… irracional sometimes. And now that Arthur realized that his judgment might’ve been clouded by hatred he still couldn’t do anything about that.

Merlin was going to die in the morning and there was nothing they could do.

“I made them agree to my bargain with a bit of help of magic. Before they got me into those shackles I made sure my friends would’ve made a safe path to our camp.”

“You live with the druids?”

“I do. Though I miss my mother and her home-cooked stew. None of the druids are particularly good at cooking.” He closed his eyes, letting out a hum, like he could just taste it on his tongue. Then shook his head, a bit embarrassed and looked at Arthur. “I’ve never had a chance to say goodbye to her.”

“I--” Arthur choked out, heart heavy. “I’ll tell her for you. You could--You  _ can  _ write a letter or… or something, I don’t know. I order for some parchment and quill right away.”

Merlin smiled at him sadly. “Thank you. But it doesn’t matter now.”

Arthur wanted to argue, he really did. But words failed him. He rubbed his hand against his face. “You have magic. Can’t you just magic your way out of here?”

Merlin rattles the shackles binding his wrists together, and Arthur felt stupid for a moment, cheeks flaring.

“Supper, your majesty!” Came one of the guards voice. Then some servant girl brought him a steaming plate of sausages, soup, bread with butter and some vegetables. In the other hand she had a plate with few pieces of bread and gave that to Merlin.

“Why did he got only that?” Arthur stalked to the gated and took his plate from her and she startled, eyes wide and innocent as they go.

She started to stutter an apology and said she always, for four days straight, brings Emrys’ soup for dinner and bread for supper.

Arthur told her to go with a sigh, then turned back and looked at Merlin. And this time - really looked at him. He didn’t know how Merlin’s bony wrists even held the shackles, sliding almost to his forearms. He was dressed in a blue shirt and brown trousers that were hanging from his skinny frame. His cheekbones were made even sharper because his cheeks were sunken. There were heavy bags under his eyes.

“Gods, look at you! You’re skin and bones. Do they want you to die from starvation?”

“They probably thought it doesn’t really matter. Why waste food on a dead man?” Merlin grinned a bit, most likely thinking he was being funny. Only Arthur didn’t share his kind of humour.

Arthur sat close to the crate separating them and huffed, “Don’t be an idiot and give me your plate,  _ Mer _ lin.”

Merlin, for his part, looked like a gaping fish for a moment, before slowly giving Arthur his plate with bread with warriness.

Arthur began to split the food in half - giving Merlin even one more sausage than he left for himself. He could get it whenever he wanted, Merlin - not so much.

“You should at least enjoy your last meal,” Arthur tried to joke, but felt a growing sinking in his stomach.

“A feast worth a king,” Merlin laughed, throwing his head back. It was such a bright sound. Arthur wanted to hear more of it, no matter how or why, he wanted…

Arthur swallowed and couldn’t respond.

“Are you sure you want to waste all the food on your prisoner, my lord?”

“Shut up and eat, you wimp.”

“Better be a wimp than a dollophead.”

“ _ A what _ ?” Arthur spluttered, disbelieving. Was he called some sort of curse word? Maybe in an old tongue? Or just Merlin was making words. The latter seemed more probable.

“A who.”

“Who, then?”

“Two words?” Arthur raised his eyebrow and Merlin grinned. “Prince Arthur.”

Arthur tried to look stern, but his lips curved and Merlin punched him in the arm playfully, and Arthur let out a squeak of a laugh, surprised at the touch.

Merlin started giggling, then. “What was  _ that _ ?”

“Shut up.” Arthur shoved him away, feeling his cheeks getting warm. “Like you’re any better. You’re giggling like a girl, Merlin.”

“Dollophead.”

“Wimp.”

“Clotpole.”

“Real mature of you, oh great Emrys. Making up words.”

“I’m a sorcerer, Arthur. That’s what I do.”

Arthur took a breath. Why was this so easy? Talking to this man? Arguing like they’ve known each other for years? He was a sorcerer, but it was so easy to forget.

“Do you change, when you have your powers?” Arthur asked between bites. Merlin ate his own portion and waited until he chewed a bite of sausage and a tomato.

“What d’you mean? Change how?”

“Well, you know.” Arthur said with a shrug. Merlin rolled his eyes. “Don’t do that, Merlin. I’m your prince. I can get you executed.”

Merlin promptly choked on his sip of water and nearly snorted it out of his nose.

“Get in the line.” He arched his brow cheekily. “Besides you’re not my prince.”

“If you live in Camelot, yes, I am.”

“If I don’t live here, no, you’re not.”

“So where do you live?”

“I pretend you didn’t ask me that. I had a sudden problem with my hearing.”

“And I’d thought you hear twice as much with those ears.” Arthur tugged the shell of one with his two fingers and Merlin squirmed away. His ears immediately became red, even before his cheeks did.

“I am  _ the  _ legendary sorcerer, I can’t believe people  _ still  _ make fun of my ears.” He grumbled, rubbing at the spot Arthur tugged at.

And is that what Merlin was? The legendary sorcerer? Or a kid who had a great destiny thrown at him where he was young? He had to carry more expectations than his skinny shoulders could take. Arthur knew a few things about those.

“Hey, Arthur?” Merlin asked, when he ate the whole plate. Arthur was still picking at his food. His arse was cold, sitting on the ground, but he didn’t want to bring a blanket. He didn’t want to seem like a ‘prideful prince’ Merlin’s already thought he was.

“I don’t change much with my magic, if that’s what you thought. Not personality-wise. Or I don’t get possessed by demons-”

“I didn’t mean  _ that _ !” Though that’s exactly what he meant.

“Yeah, but I’m still telling you. With magic I’m just me. But more. More me.” He pursued his lips, then looked at Arthur under his lashes. “I wish we would have met under different circumstances.”

Merlin pillowed his head on the bars and sighed. Arthur had an elbow on his raised knee and supported his cheek with his fist.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Like I would come to Camelot and…”

“You have a death wish?”

“I actually was in Camelot before, you know. I just never really stuck around, just on some business or another, or buying stuff. Never used my magic. Oh no, I did use it that one time.” He hummed and Arthur stared at him in wonder. “Though no one saw me. But that’s no matter. I would have come to Camelot and see you teaching your knights or... I don’t know what princes do outside the castle. But I would not have liked you at first.”

“I would not like you at first, too.” Arthur whispered.

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“Then stop staring at me.”

“I can’t do that, my prince,” Merlin whispered and Arthur forgot how to breathe.

“And why is that?” Arthur leaned closer, watching those blue eyes, which turned intense.

“Fishing for compliments, are we, sire?”

“Are you capable of giving those?”

Merlin chuckled and closed his eyes. Arthur felt barren without that gaze on him. He cursed himself for opening his mouth in the first place.

A shiver came through his spine from the cold, damn his thin open shirt. He hoped Merlin didn’t notice.

No such luck.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“ _ Arthur _ ,” Merlin scolded, like some of the teachers Arthur had. Arthur found it amusing coming from him. “Take those blankets and come here. I might be able to help you a bit.”

Arthur frowned, but did as he was told. And hunched on a blanket with the other covering his shoulders. He sat even closer to Merlin than before, he could count his lashes from there, but he refused to.

Merlin touched Arthur’s hand with his fingertips shyly, asking. When Arthur didn’t pull back, he grasped his hands between his own. He brought them closer to his face and breathed on them.

Except it was… his breath couldn’t be that warm, could it be? Or maybe it was…

“Are you doing magic?”

“In a way. I am kind of, uh, you could say powerful, you know with being Emrys and all. And I was born with magic, so I don’t exist without it. And those shackles forbid me from doing environmental magic, but I can make myself warmer or other basic… Sorry, I’m rambling. Feel free to tell me to shut up.”

“Shut up.” Arthur said, his eyes closing against his own volition. He was so warm and safe.

Merlin’s giggle was the last thing he remembered, before the sleep overtook him.

 

\-------

 

Arthur’s eyes shot open, catching a bony wrist in his hand. Then his eyes followed the pale forearm and through a thin rough fabric over a visible collarbone to a face, which a few seconds ago in his dreams was scrunched up in a smile. Now there was a sadness radiating from Merlin. His eyes were glassy and he looked even more tired than before. He looked like he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

His grip on Merlin’s wrist softened, now it was cradled in Arthur’s palm. Merlin was probably trying to put a blanket over his shivering form, but couldn’t reach far, the shackles blocking his way.

Arthur felt stiff and cold and uncomfortable, having spent all night on the hard floor. He could hardly feel the toes of his feet and he sniffled, but his upper body rolled in blankets wasn’t that cold. Touching Merlin Arthur could feel heat radiating through his veins and warming him up in no time.

The last bit of sleep left him, when he realised that it hadn’t been a dream. It all had been real - Emrys, Merlin, his magic and his execution. Which was supposed to be today, given that it was already sunrise. Arthur wished he was put in a cell with a window. The constant darkness just messed with his mind.

He squeezed Merlin’s fingers, “Is it time?”

“Not yet. The guards talked about getting you out of here before… before the big event. So you could get ready. They will be there any minute, but I just wanted… I wanted…”

Arthur couldn’t look at Merlin’s face, full of sorrow and regret. He wanted to look at it turned up in a playful smile. He wanted to gaze into those eyes, when they were bright with mirth. He didn’t know why… why he felt that way, he never… He couldn’t… 

The only thing he could do was press a vicious kiss to Merlin’s knuckles. Merlin broke in a sob, “I don’t wanna die, Arthur.” His pale long fingers clutched Arthur’s own as he pulled their hands and placed a shuddery kiss to Arthur’s knuckles.

Arthur shushed him, placing his other hand on Merlin’s sharp cheekbone, barely a ghost of a touch, and let Merlin’s tears run down his hands. That’s what he deserved. That’s the only thing he deserved. All this time he could’ve… but he didn’t… and now…

“I know, Merlin. Shh, I know.”

“I want to see mum again. I want to... to...” Merlin hiccuped, “to tell her that I’m sorry. I left her and I never… I never...  _ Arthur. _ ”

“You will.” Arthur said abruptly, letting go of Merlin’s hand and standing up and began pacing. “You will see your mother.”

The confession or the certainty in Arthur’s voice must have been surprising enough that Merlin’s stopped crying and stared at him with wide eyes.

“I didn’t… Arthur, you can’t do that.”

“But I will. I will make sure of it.”

“You can’t promise that. Please don’t promise that.”

Arthur kneeled again in front of Merlin. Seeing him like this was breaking Arthur’s heart. He had to do something. He couldn’t just let that happen. Nothing was set in stone. He took Merlin’s cheeks in his hands and brushed his knuckles across his cheekbones to wipe off the tears. “I am Arthur Pendragon. If not me, then who? If not now, then when? You are not allowed to die, do you hear me? You have a responsibility to your people, to your mother, to the whole of Albion. And it is to live. To live and be good.”

“ _ Arthur… _ ” Merlin sighed, clasping Arthur’s wrist in his hand.

“Don’t interrupt me,  _ Mer _ lin.

“Then stop staring at me.”

“I can’t do that, my sorcerer.”

Arthur felt his heart lifting, when Merlin let out a quiet chuckle.

The guards burst in laughter. Both Merlin and Arthur turned in the direction of loud voices. They’ve come for him. It’s nearly over.

“It’s time for you to go.”

“I will talk my father. I know how he is, I will try…” Arthur said quickly.

“Uther will not be moved. Arthur, stop this. You can’t change this.”

“I wish it would never have happened. Or I wish I would have met you sooner.”

“I too wish for many things, but they don’t matter. What matters is that I will face my death with a lighter heart having met you, Arthur Pendragon. I will die knowing there might be hope for Camelot yet. With king like you... I can just imagine it… I only wish I would be able to see it.”

“Don’t say that. I will-”

“Your majesty?” Leon, one of his knights, said. “The king send for you.”

His eyes jumped between Arthur and Merlin with a perplexed expression, before settling on Arthur. He opened Arthur’s cell and Arthur cast one last look at his sorcerer he learned to know in one night, the sorcerer he felt a peculiar connection to.

“I won’t forget it.”  _ Forget you, forget what you told me, what I learned from you. _

“And neither will I, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Sire?” Leon prompted, frown on his face.

And Arthur finally turned around and stepped outside the cell. There was no point in looking at Merlin. He will have a lot more occasions to look at him from now on.

It was not last time. 

Arthur will make sure of it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [If you liked my story, consider buying me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/szpurka)
> 
> SO, I didn't want it to end like this, I have to be honest. I was beginning to write the rest with Merlin's execution and all, with this big and meaningful speech that Merlin makes as his last words. But then I thought I don't want to make myself cry and ended it here, on more hopeful note
> 
> Also, sorry for any mistakes! I wrote it in four hours yesterday and then I promptly died
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it, let me now!
> 
> You can find me on:  
> [tumblr](https://w-szpurka.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/szpurkawrites)  
> e-mail: szpurkawrites@gmail.com
> 
> I also encourage you to visit [my site](https://szpurka.com/), because I'm just starting and it's important to me, and I have an actual physical novel in the making, so maybe if you're interested in that you can ask me about it or smth :D


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